“I RETURNED to take her to Dover and put her on a ship, and hang it, that’s what I’m going to do!”
After three days spent weeping, thinking, and healing, Amy had approached Kendra that very afternoon and shyly asked about joining the family for supper. She’d been certain she felt ready for some human interaction.
But now that Colin was home, she wasn’t so sure.
In the corridor outside the drawing room, she stood frozen in place, listening. The Chases made an incredible racket. Amy and her parents had rarely shouted at one another, but this family seemed to use shouting as their main mode of communication. Even when they’d discussed her at her bedside, she reflected, they’d shouted in whispers.
Tonight, they were none so circumspect.
“I promised her, Colin!” she heard Kendra wail. “I promised she could stay here until she’s ready.”
“Ready? What on earth is that supposed to mean? She’s awake, she’s ready.”
“I’m not quite certain she’s awake,” Ford’s scratchy, adolescent voice put in, with more than a little amusement. “She’s been wandering around like a ghost.”
Amy winced. Was that what they thought of her?
“She has not!” Kendra leapt to Amy’s defense. “Her father just died, for heaven’s sake. I promised her.”
“A pox on your promises! I need to get back to Greystone. I needed to be there a week ago.”
“Jason?” By the tone of Kendra’s voice, Amy imagined her looking toward her brother beseechingly.
“A Chase promise is not given lightly.” Jason, the voice of reason.
“A pox on you, too!”
“I agree with them, Colin. Promises aside, she’s in no state for travel.” So Ford was on her side as well.
“A pox on all three of you! I don’t care who agrees with whom. I brought her here, and I’ll take her away when I please.”
“I promised her!”
“You sound like one of those newfangled cuckoo clocks, Kendra. ‘I promised her, I promised her, I promised her.’ Well, cuckoo all you want; I’m not changing my mind. We’re leaving come morning. Where is she? You said she was coming to supper.”
Amy took a step back down the corridor.
“Your arrival probably scared her into the next county!” Kendra yelled.
“You’re both acting like children!” Amy heard Jason shout while she steadily backed away from the room. “Colin, this is out of your hands. Go to Greystone in the morning. I’ll arrange for Mrs. Goldsmith’s travel when she’s ready. Kendra, go fetch her. We’ll meet you in the dining room in half an hour.”
Amy fled up the stairs to her chamber and was sitting primly on the edge of her bed when Kendra arrived.
Her friend stood in the doorway, frowning. “It’s nearly time for supper. You’re…not planning to wear that gown, are you?”
Amy looked down to her skirts. The lavender dress had been laundered and pressed while she slept, but there were a few tiny holes where embers had landed, and little gray spots where the soot had stained it permanently. She’d worn it three days straight already.
Her face burned. “I haven’t another,” she said to her lap.
“Wait here a moment.” Kendra started to leave, then reappeared in the doorway. “Oh, Colin is back.” She disappeared again, yelling “Jane!” as she went.
Wondering what Kendra was up to, Amy ran her hand down the gilt bedpost beside her for what seemed like the millionth time since she’d awakened in this beautiful room a few days ago. It wasn’t the costliness of the gold that stole her breath, for gold was so soft and pliable that she could hammer a single ounce into a hundred square feet of gold leaf. But she thought the intricately carved bed looked like nothing so much as a gigantic, exquisite piece of jewelry, and—with a fresh stab of grief—she wished she could show it to her father.
All of the room’s furnishings were gilt, marble, or golden brocade. Amy felt like she was living in Queen Catharine’s bedchamber.
A floral fragrance suffused the air. She shuffled her smoke-damaged shoes where they rested on a plush patterned carpet of brown, cream and gold. At home, the floors had been polished wood. Her family had owned two precious Oriental carpets, but the larger one had adorned a wall, the smaller, a table. Before arriving at Cainewood, she’d never considered actually walking on anything so expensive as a carpet.
Kendra came back leading Jane, a plain-faced young maid with a kind smile and an armful of dresses. Kendra grabbed a yellow one from the pile and held it up to Amy’s cheek. “No, too sallow,” she muttered, tossing it aside. The next was peach. “Too pale.” Jane handed her another, a burgundy satin. “Perfect,” Kendra declared.
Before Amy could protest, her gown was removed and Kendra’s dropped over her head. A rose scent wafted from the fabric. Wiggling into the dress, she inhaled the luxurious fragrance, thinking the Chases lived a different life indeed.
It wasn’t her life, though. Her life would never feel complete without her craft. Without the thrill of working raw stones and metal into lasting bits of beauty.
Jane laced up the bodice, attached the stomacher, and tucked up the skirt to reveal a shell-pink underskirt. She plucked Amy’s chemise through the slashed sleeves, which were caught together at intervals with pink ribbons. Then she seated Amy before the oval gilt-framed mirror and began fussing with her hair.
“I cannot figure out how to plait it properly.” Amy tugged up her lace-edged chemise to fill in the gown’s low neckline. “Our maid used to entwine ribbons somehow.”
“Oh, curls are the fashion now.” Kendra waved a hand. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
What was she going to do? Amy stared at her reflection. Without her father to force the issue, the one thing she wouldn’t do was marry Robert Stanley. She would have to write soon to tell him so.
“Not entirely.” She sat very still as Jane wielded a hot curling iron. “Go to Paris, to my aunt and uncle’s jewelry shop, is what I should do.” She toyed with a bottle on the marble-topped dressing table. “I promised my father I’d never give up my craft…and jewelry is my life. I know no other.”
“Well, you needn’t leave until you feel ready. I promised you that.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes met Kendra’s in the looking glass. “You’re a good friend.”
Jane tied a pink ribbon in Amy’s hair and stepped back to view her handiwork. “What do you think?” She reached out and tweaked a curl.
“Beautiful,” Kendra said.
Amy gazed at her reflection, touching a finger to her lips. The lips Colin had kissed. Maybe, just maybe, she would find a young man—another jeweler—in France. A jeweler who could make her feel like Colin did.
“No time for cosmetics,” Kendra said with a sigh. “We’re late already.”